At this moment, giant snowflakes are being blown into my backyard from the west. But the angle of the wind combined with the shape of my backyard and height of its fence are creating a vortex. It's like watching a slow-spinning transparent tornado of snow the exact width and shape of the yard. At the back fence, it's heading east, at the glass door it's going west. I really wish I owned a video camera right now.
Most of us have weather memories. My first was walking up the hill to school in 3rd grade, turning around and seeing crepuscular rays
streaming out from billowing cumulus clouds. It looked just like a painting at my Godparents' house depicting Jesus' rapture of the church. I stood there for several minutes waiting to be caught up in the air. But when nothing happened, I eventually turned around and finished the trek to school.
Then there was the time in Cheyenne I was awakened from an afternoon nap by the sound of sirens. My curiosity piqued as the proverbial cat, I walked outside rather than hide in the basement as the authorities advise. I looked up to see the sky dark with clouds looking like sharp black stucco. Directly above me was circular motion - quick and fascinating. From my vantage point, I could not see what most of the rest of the panicked city was witnessing: a large funnel cloud descending and ascending. Its evil tease was frightening enough that it made the front page of the newspaper the next morning.
There was also a day in the church office building when Pete and I watched a snowstorm advance upon us from a quarter mile away. Like a curtain of dense falling snow, the wall moved towards us at maybe 10 or 15 miles an hour. When it finally enveloped us, I knew I'd just had an unforgettable experience with a good friend.
And once in Estes Park, I remember being in a car, waiting at a stoplight as crowds of tourists assembled at each street corner waiting for their turn to cross. From over the mountain came a similar curtain, but this time it was a torrential rain. I watched it approach from half a block away. My mischievous nature delighted in the anticipation of watching it hit the first gaggle of pedestrians. When the moment arrived, I was not disappointed. They scurried like ants from the flood of a garden hose.
I've never seen the northern lights or watched 40-foot waves generated by winter storms coming into Waimea Bay. But I hope to someday.
So... what weather memories do you have?